But when I shake my head no, I reach for that hand again. Give it a squeeze. “Not gonna happen tonight, Guppy.”
She snorts a laugh at the nickname, and it’s no use to fight my smile.
“Stop calling me that,” she says through her laughter.
I can’t help what I say next. “I’ll have to stop. Because right now you look just like a mermaid.” And she does. With her perfect, white breasts and her riot of curls spilling around her as though she’s floating on the ocean. All she’s missing is tail and scales. And I’m as hard as Poseidon's trident just looking at her.
Her smile grows, and the effect is so stunning my breath hitches.
“We could always make a trip to the drugstore,” she says, her brow arching and that smile turning wicked.
Why couldn’t I have met her before I got hooked on stealing? Hell, even just right before that ill-fated night. Yeah, I realize I was eighteen then, and she would have been like twelve or thirteen, so it never would have happened.
But I wish I would have known her or known she’d find me one day. It would have been enough to make me clean up my act. The promise of her — of just this moment right now — would have changed my whole life.
I shake my head again. “No drugstore. You’ve been drinking. How do I know you’re even in your right mind?” I’m teasing. Mostly. She seems a little buzzed, but no more than that. Still, I’d slit my wrists if I slept with her and she ended up regretting it.
But Evie’s brow lifts higher with mock menace, and she pushes herself up onto her elbows. If it’s possible, the move only makes her look sexier.
Jesus, I need a shower.
“Drew Moroux, don’t think I’m not onto you.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “Oh?”
She shakes her head. “You’re not pushing me away. Not now. Not ever.”
“Evie...” I’m not ready to admit she’d broken me in a way I don’t want to be fixed. I don’t know what to do. I only know I can’t hurt her anymore.
She sits up and fixes her dress, watching me the whole time. “Nope. Don’tEvieme.” Despite her words, her voice is calm, level. “We’re done with that.”
My brows drop. “Done with what, exactly?”
Evie runs her hands down the front of her dress, trying to smooth it, but given the last half-hour, it’s pretty rumpled. And her hair is bigger, wilder than I’ve ever seen it. God, she’s gorgeous.
Ireallyneed a shower.
“You,” she says, “acting like there’s nothing between us.” She pins me with her stare, and she looks confident. Certain. Or like someone who’s trying to fake it.
I swallow but keep my expression blank. What I just showed her can’t even come close to all I feel, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“Maybe it’s time I walked you home,” I manage.
Her look of confidence wavers a little, and I see what it’s costing her.
“I don’t want to go home. I want to stay with you.”
She wants to stay with me.
I’ve been fighting so hard to deny what’s here that I haven’t let myself feel this. How it feels to have Evie’s affection.
It’s like flying without wings. Exhilarating. And fucking terrifying.
When I say nothing — because this freefall makes it impossible to speak — her frown deepens.
“Why do you do this? You run hot and cold and—”
“Stay,” I blurt.